Screeching tires, gunshots, broken glass, sirens and screaming)
Yeah (3x)
They want problems
Soon they want me waxed contracts on my ass
It's coming from the pen they say I owe 'em cash
Well enough to pass and they need it fast
But what they failize (fail to realize) is I'll be quick to
blast
Die hard cold blooded killer all about my work
Dressed up like a female in a mini-skirt
Specialize in doin' dirt shootin' niggas in the shirt
Put the pistol in his mouth and make it hurt, ooh
Cutlass, guzzlin' down a 40-ounce bottle of Swiss malt liquor
brewsky
talkin' to a cutie standin' outside the movie theater sittin' on
top
of the
hood of my Cutlass
Smokin' on a non-filter pink pack colored edition cigarette
Clove found the affiliated cashes dick lickin' gainish beadie
What the f**k? Where's the peace treaty?
Full of my Wheaties, yes indeedy
M-16's don't shoot no beebees
Programmed to amputate anything that gets up in my way
Then I put them same size left over bullets up in my A.K.
I can't wait 'till we bump heads
Chorus:
It on, on sight day and night no matter what I'm dumpin'
I'm tryin to see you niggas 'bout somethin'(2x)
(I'm heated, them niggas cheated)
We had a meetin', shit (sup)posed to been squashed(3x)
Shit was (sup)posed to been squashed
I've got a hunch
Meet me at the Olive Garden spot lets do lunch
Foolin' em tried to pass the bucket set us up for locks
Sons of bitches must think we some chumps
Time to break out the pipe bombs and the pumps
C-Bo:
Nigga f**k stressin' pull it
We kickin' the door with full clips
Out of Magnums packin' when we blast 'em we all out for the
chips
4-40 water never slip
Saw the niggas quick and then dip
Before we spark the pipe bombs and blow the niggas shit to side
Raise up off they block poppin' gizzun in a big fight
All out non stop riders until our casket drop
We smashin' blastin' on any while I remember my many
Dash and blastin' double 23's, f**k the enemies
Chorus:
One of my fake dudes up out HPA shot me a kite today
He up in Pelican Bay three striker
Through 25 to L 'cause he goin' to tell on one of his high
ranked
dudes in
position who wears a diaper
With a ? sack on the side of his waist blood splattered all on
the
windshield wiper
Somebody tried to take his face caught him up in his Viper
Loose as a goose ass out tried to down him like a sniper
? ? ? started havin' seizures
No feelings in his legs, arms, or his sneakers
C-Bo:
We stand tall like Minute Bol
With bigger balls than Ru-Paul
Strap with 4-4's down to execute all y'all
Don't want to see us niggas on a mission
150 round drum 45 slugs bitten
No remorse hit by the hardcore fo' sho'
Leave him stuck in his front seat
70 rounds through his front window
Ain't no f**kin' with G's
Fill 'em up to they neck from they knees
Leave 'em dyin' in the street as we escape on they goldeeze
Chorus:

Writer : E. STEVENS, G. BUREN, S. THOMAS
Copyright : Lyrics © The Bicycle Music Company, UNIVERSAL MUSIC-Z TUNES , UNIVERSAL MUSIC-Z SONGS